Fortune's Favor
by cecilyjones
Summary: A good, old fashioned oneoff adventure, early in the team's history. Before everyone got all traumatized.


Fortune's Favor

by Cecily

Pilot crawled on her stomach to the edge of the cliff and looked over. There they were--a squad of biomechs, ready to storm the settlement at the end of the ravine. They were planning to create a bottleneck. Trap the refugees as they fled back this way, the only escape route out of the settlement, then wait for the biodread Sauron to arrive and digitize them all. Or so they thought. Captain Power and Hawk were already in the settlement, guiding the refugees through a secret cave system leading out of the ravine.

Meanwhile, the biomechs would be caught in their own trap. Tank was down there, waiting to blast the cliff down on them. Scout had used his holographic projector to disguise himself as a biomech and was somewhere in the squad. They waited for his signal, as soon as he heard from the Captain that the settlement was clear. Pilot's job was to pick off any clickers that tried to flee.

She lay flat, out of sight, blaster in hand and ready to fire. Her power suit felt like a glove, snug against her body, caressing her, its circuits charged with energy that didn't just flow around her, but flowed _through_ her, giving her strength. She'd only had the suit for a few months and was still getting used to the feeling--that thrill of near-invincibility. The first time, standing in the shelter of the charging station, her heart racing as she reached to touch the contacts for the first time, the suit's powering on had been painful, searing. All her nerves burned, her mind blasted apart. Then, it had felt like flying, with no ship between her and the air. All that power, bound to her, at her command.

She'd remembered thinking, _What the hell am I doing? How did I get myself into this?_ A year ago she'd been the enemy, Dread Youth, reciting vows to destroy the organic resistance. Now here she was, not just a part of the organic resistance, but a member of Captain Power's team. The first time she'd charged her power suit, the force of it had knocked her to the floor. Hawk assured her that had happened to all of them--except for Tank, who'd only stumbled. But they'd all been there to help her back to her feet. She'd looked up into their faces, saw them smiling back at her, and her heart had almost burst with happiness. _These are my friends_, she'd thought. However she'd gotten here, she'd traveled from a place of mechanized austerity to this, to friendship. To purpose.

A year ago, she wouldn't have recognized the thoughts she had now: _my friends, my team, my battle against Dread. This is where I'm meant to be._ If Lord Dread could see her now. She wanted to laugh at the thought. She only smiled, and watched for Scout's signal.

When it came, she heard it before she saw it. A pop, then _boom_, explosion. A puff of flame and smoke rose from the center of the biomech squad. Yep, that was Scout all right. One biomech separated from the others and turned back, heading out of the ravine at a flat run. Definitely Scout.

A second after the first explosion, another blast echoed through the ravine, and the rocks shook. Tank's cannon fired twice more, and the rocks began falling. Pelted with debris, the biomechs lost their bearings and began flailing, crashing into each other. Some fired their weapons, but the confused blasts landed far from any targets.

Pilot watched, almost disappointed that the mission was going so well she might not even get to fire a shot. Then she saw that a pair of biomechs hadn't had their circuits fried by the explosion, and had taken off at a trot to follow Scout. No longer wearing his disguise, Scout had turned to make a stand, kneeling in the dust and raising his weapon.

Taking careful aim, Pilot fired. Two precise shots took them out. They fell, twitching, dying in a shower of sparks. Scout waved a salute at her.

Time to get going. She had the vantage; as she stood, she looked through the visor of her headset around the desert, broken landscape one more time. Her gloved hands tightened on her weapon. There in the distance, a focused cloud of dust approach--the sign of a quickly-moving vehicle kicking up a wake of desert dust. Dread transport, approaching fast from the east. Another trail of dust approached from the south. Dread troops trying to turn the trap back around.

She activated her comm switch. "Scout, Tank, more troops are on the way. Looks like two transports. A platoon this time."

Tank's static-filtered voice came back. "Then we'd better get a move on. Call the Captain, then meet us at the skybikes, and hurry."

"Don't have to tell me twice. Pilot out."

She ran to the gully at the back of the ridge, where they'd hidden their three skybikes in a growth of scrub. Keeping an eye on the transports, she noted they'd increased their speed. She could see the transports, now, not just their dust trails. The team had definitely been spotted.

Turning to her comm one more time, she keyed the Captain's frequency.

"Power here. What is it?"

"Captain, the squad's down, but we've got two transports closing in on us. I'm beginning to think our trap was really their trap."

"Right. You and the others get back to the jumpship as soon as you can. I'll send Hawk to cover you."

"Yes, sir."

The others were already at the skybikes. They'd only had to cross the ravine; she'd had to climb down the hill.

"You tell the Captain?" Tank asked.

"Yes. Hawk's on his way."

"Then let's get moving," the huge man said.

The three skybikes thrummed overland to the rendezvous point, where the jumpship waited. Following in the others' wake, Pilot watched her monitors, checking for the location of the approaching Dread transports. What she saw worried her. Not only had one of the airborne transports altered course, it had speeded up. It had spotted the jumpship and would reach its location before the skybikes did.

But maybe the Dread troops hadn't tracked them all. Maybe they only knew that the resistance was here. Not how many of them.

She radioed Scout and Tank on her comm. "We've got a transport on our tail. I'm going to fall back and try to take it out."

Scout answered, "Wait a minute, Pilot--"

"Keep going, I need you to be the bait."

"All right." He didn't sound sure.

The landscape here was tortured, cut by cliffs and ravines that the wind had scoured into spires and mazes of rock. The climate was hot and desert, but settlements thrived out here because it was easy to hide from Dread. Easier, anyway. Quickly, she found what she was looking for: a narrow cut, almost a cave, cutting into a hillside. Small, but big enough for a skybike to land and keep out of sight. She steered into it, reversed the bike, and settled into wait.

She could only see straight ahead, but her scanner tracked the whole area. The Dread transport still approached. It should appear any moment, still chasing Tank and Scout.

_Three...two…one…_

Engines roaring, the Dread ship rocketed past her vantage point, not slowing a whit. They hadn't spotted her. Didn't even know she was here.

She gunned her engines and launched out of the cleft of rock. Now, they'd see her. She only had a couple of seconds before they started shooting, or reversed course. She only needed one.

Using the skybike's grenade launcher, she fired a series of explosive rounds at the unprotected back of the transport, the let loose with the lasers. The enemy managed a couple of shots in return, but only a couple. Her barrage damaged the engines, and the thing dropped in a slow, injured arc, to the canyon floor.

Accelerating, Pilot pointed the bike up and climbed into the air, away from the wreckage, speeding forward to rejoin her friends.

Scout's voice crackled over the comm. "Yeehaw! That was quite a show!"

The pair had circled back to rejoin her. She could see Scout waving. Pilot grinned.

Together, they returned to the jumpship.

------------------------

They reached the Passages without incident. There, personnel helped the refugees leave the jumpship's hold, guiding them to their new, safe home. Captain's team oversaw the proceedings, obviously pleased at the mission they'd successfully completed.

Pilot watched from the steps leading up to the cockpit, leaning on the hull, her arms crossed. The ship and its activity occupied a relatively small section of an immense hangar area. From here, tunnels led off in all directions: to living quarters, medical facilities, workshops, repair bays, storage facilities. Miles of tunnels--hence, the Passages. She still found it incredible that Dread didn't know about this place. This was the heart of the resistance, the safe haven all of free humanity counted on.

And now, she knew the secret. She could give it all away. Destroy this place--all she had to do was go back to Dread, tell him everything she'd learned. And then do what? Be a hero of the New Order?

Her smile quirked. She was getting so much more pleasure out of being a thorn in Dread's side. How galling it must be to him, to know that his little traitor had learned all of Power's secrets--and would rather die than betray her new friends.

The Captain came up from the back of the ship and spotted her. "You look pleased with yourself."

"I am," she acknowledged. "This was a good day."

"It was." Together, they looked out over the hanger and the crowd of settlers who were now safe. Children ran among them, laughing, their voices echoing across the stone and steel walls.

She stole a glance at Captain Jonathan Power, and was struck again by how young he looked. Before she'd met him, his reputation--the stories that Dread Youth cadets passed among themselves in hushed whispers--had made him out to be a grizzled monster, covered in fur, dirty, diseased, representative of everything that made organics inferior. But he was just a young man with kind eyes, serious and earnest. Handsome. Still, there was always a shadow near him, a veil behind his gaze that she had learned to identify as sadness. However much his team accomplished, he was always thinking of how much more they had to do.

When he glanced at her, she lowered her gaze and felt herself blush.

He said, "That stunt you pulled, taking out the Dread transport from behind? That took a lot of initiative."

"I just did what needed doing."

"It was a good plan, you carried it out, and I think that deserves some reward."

"Like what?"

"Like a field promotion. How does Corporal Chase sound?"

She hadn't been looking for a reward--only the chance to strike at Dread. The same thing all of them were looking for. But still, she couldn't help but feel a well of pride. She raised her brow. "Corporal Chase? I think I like the sound of that."

"Then it's done. Congratulations." He offered his hand, and she gladly shook it.

Then she looked away, unable to wipe the goofy smile off her face. This was supposed to be serious.

"What is it?" the Captain said. "I feel like I'm missing a joke."

"No, it's just--I've been thinking a lot about how far I've come. Some days I still can't believe where I am. That you trust me with all this."

"You've proven yourself. Nobody doubts you."

How could he be so young, yet so confident? So wise. _I'll follow this man anywhere_, she realized suddenly. _I'll do anything for him._ She nodded. "I know that. And I'm grateful. I feel like the luckiest person in the whole world."

He patted her shoulder and gave her smile before moving on to his next task. She watched him leave, still thinking,_ I really am the luckiest person in the whole world._

---------------------

Bedrolls lined the wide corridor, which had turned into a staging area of sorts while a set of barracks were prepared for the new arrivals. Entire families sat out on blankets, passing the time however they could, eating rations and playing games with stones or homemade cards. It was a familiar scene in the Passages, and Pilot had learned to appreciate it, so many people just being _people_. Their voices and laughter, and sometimes even their crying, made her feel more real.

She traveled down the corridor on her way to the mess hall when someone reached up and grabbed her hand. She turned, startled.

A woman, middle-aged maybe, but probably younger and made old before her time by hardship, had reached up from her bedroll to take Pilot's hand. "You one of Power's team?"

"That's right." The blue phoenix badge pinned to her khaki uniform identified her.

"Thank you. For all you've done--thank you." She had graying brown hair pulled in a pony tail and wore the usual mish-mash of clothes that people in the settlements collected: a thin dress, trousers and boots, a thickly woven shawl.

"You're welcome," Pilot said, smiling. It had taken time and practice to learn what to say in these situations. She'd watched what the Captain and the others did and tried to be like them.

"I can do more than thank you," the woman said, determination burning in her eyes. She kept hold of Pilot's hand while fumbling in a cloth bag she wore at her side. "Here, wait, please."

Curious, Pilot knelt and waited. The woman drew out a small, hand-sized bundle wrapped in cloth. Unwrapping it revealed a deck of cards, but these weren't like the beat-up cards that people used to play games, sometimes staking rations or chores on the outcome. These were clean and well cared for. The backs were decorated with ornate patterns of flowers and vines.

"The cards," the woman said, shuffling the stack. "I'll read your cards."

The cards she'd seen had numbers on them--nothing to read. "I don't understand," Pilot said.

"Special cards. Can tell where you came from, and maybe where you're going."

At a loss, Pilot was about to ask for further explanation when Hawk approached and took up a place looking over them. "What's all this?" he said.

"I'm not sure." Pilot gratefully glanced up at him, silently begging for an explanation. It's another human custom to try to understand, she was thinking. Yet another piece of humanity her childhood in the Dread Youth had deprived her of. Like music and chocolate.

"Reading the cards," the woman said.

Hawk huffed. "Superstition, you mean."

The refugee shot him an angry glare. "The cards can make things clear."

"Hawk?" Pilot asked, still floundering.

He sounded almost offended when he explained, "Some people think you can tell the future with bunk like this. Tarot cards, reading the stars."

The woman paused, one hand getting ready to draw the first card, her eyes asking if she should continue. This was the sort of thing Dread's New Order was talking about when it said organics were irrational and unworthy of the machine. Now, Pilot was intrigued. Anything Dread hated couldn't be all bad.

"I'm curious," she told the woman. "I want to see." Smiling now, the woman sniffed a little at Hawk, who rolled his eyes.

She drew the first card and placed it face-up in front of Pilot. Instead of numbers and symbols, it showed a picture: a man on a throne, sitting on a dais, wearing a gleaming crown and wielding a staff. "The Emperor," she said. "Someone in your past controlled you."

The picture was stylized--the man could have been any man. His clothes were antique, historical. But Pilot saw other features in her mind's eye: the dark cloak and armor, the glowing red eye. She shook the image out of her mind. Her mouth had gone dry.

The woman turned another card face up. This one showed a desert, yellow sand and rocks, and a figured walking, shrouded in a brown cloak and hood. "The Hermit," she said. "You wandered for a time, lost. Made a long journey."

Now her heart was racing. How could this woman know? Only a few people outside the team knew about her past. How could she know which cards to choose? "Hawk? I thought you said--"

"It's a coincidence," the older man said gruffly. "You can see anything you want to, it doesn't mean anything."

The woman turned up a third card. "The Magician. You encountered a great power that changed you."

The figure painted on the card, a man in white, his hand raised, a halo of energy radiating around him, didn't look like the Captain, but he might as well have, because that was what Pilot saw.

"It's your past," the woman said. "Where you came from. Now--where are you going?"

Pilot almost told the woman to stop--she didn't want to see any more. She didn't understand what she'd already seen. Too late, though--the woman had already turned up the fourth card, which showed a figure in black, with a skull for a face, holding a staff with a curved blade.

"Death," she said, frowning.

"Bunk," Hawk said.

"Quiet! Don't mean death, not always. Means change. End of one journey, start of another."

Was that now? Had she stared a new journey? Felt like it. But Hawk was right, this couldn't mean anything.

"Watch--there's two more to see." She turned the next. Two figures, a man and woman, stood before a grove of lush vegetation, green and flowering. They held hands. "The Lovers," the woman said, sounding almost relieved. "That means harmony. Unity. You see? Not all bad." Then one more card, showing a map and compass, stars and suns wheeling overhead. "The World. You're going to help make a new world." The woman beamed at her proudly.

Pilot shook her head, baffled. "But what's it all mean?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes when you're lost, seeing the pictures can help you find your way."

"I'm not lost," Pilot insisted. "Not anymore."

"Not for now," she said, ominous.

Hawk touched her shoulder. "Come on, Pilot. Let's get out of here."

Pilot gave a thin smile to the woman, who gathered up her cards and looked knowingly at her, as if she knew a secret. Together, she and Hawk walked to the mess hall.

"You okay?" Hawk asked.

"Yeah--it was just strange. She was talking about my life. "

"You'd have seen something from your life no matter what cards she played. They can mean anything."

"But what if what she said about my future, that Death card--"

"Forget about that," he said firmly. They arrived at the kitchens. The smell of fresh cooking hit Pilot like a wall, and her stomach rumbled.

The Captain, Tank and Scout were all at a table together, and personnel of the Passages filled many other tables. Conversation fell quiet when she and Hawk appeared in the doorway.

Scout stood and raised his cup. A mischievous grin split his face. "Let's hear it for Corporal Chase!"

Everyone cheered. A wave of noise hit her. She blushed and ducked her gaze, but her smile was wide. Hawk clapped her shoulder and urged her forward to join the others. Congratulations came at her from all side.

In the Dread Youth, promotion meant an Overunit pinned a new rank tab on your collar. That was it. Nothing like this happened. They didn't celebrate anything but the death of organics. Pilot liked this better. She smiled her thanks at the crowd.

The five team members sat down together for the meal. The conversation turned to the news of the day, rumors in the Passages, talk of resupply and what they needed at the Power Base. Pilot's thoughts drifted back to the woman and the cards. The images had laid out her path so clearly: Dread, then being lost, then the Captain, then--then change. She'd had plenty of change. But Hawk was right--it was all so vague. It could mean anything. Or nothing.

"You're quiet this evening," the Captain said, breaking her out of her reverie.

"All the excitement's too much, isn't it?" Scout said, grinning. "We shocked her into silence."

"Sorry," she said. "I'm just distracted."

Hawk studied her a moment, then turned to the Captain. "We had an encounter. Some fortune teller decided to pick on her."

"It was nothing." Pilot insisted. "Just…strange, is all. It was like she knew things."

"But she can't know what's going to happen. No one can."

Pilot smiled, trying to turn it into a joke. "She did say I'm going to change the world."

"That's good, isn't it?" Scout said.

Hawk huffed. "She also said you might die doing it. I have to admit it even had me spooked." His gaze was dark. The cards had affected him too, Pilot realized, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

The fell quiet for a moment, then the Captain said, "But it's not real. Don't worry about it."

After picking at her food, trying to put her thoughts in order, she met his gaze. "The thing is, I'm not afraid of death. We're fighting a war. It could happen any time, to any of us. Dread with his New Order and undying metalloid bodies--_he's_ afraid of death. I don't want to be like that. Not anymore. I figure dying is part of being human. And I want to be human."

"Amen to that," said Scout, thumping his palm on the table.

The noise broke the somber mood, and they could go back to talking and laughing. Enjoying the moment, surrounded by friends, Pilot forgot about the cards, and the worries. This was what mattered, right here and now.

She decided she didn't want to think about the future too much.


End file.
